"State your name and designation, Citizen."
The mask-toting man's voice boomed across the empty hallway, his red 'eyes' glowing out of his skull. His voice was warped, as if speaking into a radio. This was an intentional design choice to invoke fear.
"S-2553. Frau Schnitter."
The small, frail, white-haired girl replied. She seemed no older than fifteen. Her voice was quiet in tone, perhaps terrified of an outcome that would occur if her voice were to be raised. She wore a typical outfit that any citizen of the Volarian Empire would recognize. A deep black tunic paired with gray trousers that seemed too large for her stature.
"Ms. Schnitter, we've heard multiple noise complaints from residents of this area. The source was tracked to this specific flat." His voice inquired, menacing all the same, yet somehow carrying a lingering feel of humanity.
Crudely made pipes hissed steam, which scattered across the already tight hallway. Some lingering pieces of trash were strewn across the ground, which was to the annoyance of the Officer.
"Are the residents of this home participating in Civic Idleness?"
Time-wasting, or Civic Idleness as it was called, was a practice that could be fined up to 2000 in charges, or even arrest. The Volarian Empire was not fond of such an action and preferred useful activities for its citizens. After all, the empire was known for its vast technological prowess for a reason. Perhaps it stemmed from a desire to maintain its reputation as a hard-working Empire, or from genuine concern for its citizens' wellbeing, but Volaria disliked entertainment or things that would otherwise not benefit its citizens.
The girl, covering most of her frame with the slightly opened door, shook her head as if to deny the question.
"N-No, sir. My granny and I are the only ones that live here." She squeaked, nervousness present in her face.
The officer, taking notice of such an expression, decided to investigate the source of this agitation. After all, only someone hiding something would display such emotions. Placing his hand on the door, the man gently pushed.
"Allow me to search the premises, Ms. Schnitter."
The girl, a bit shocked, ultimately nodded and stepped aside.
panel-553-4
Opening the door revealed a more or less empty flat, with only a few pieces of furniture scattered around. The walls were a sickly gray, mimicking the walls of the outside hall. The window was open, allowing drafts of stray wind to scutter inside. Sunlight streamed from the glass, cascading along the ground.
His scanning of the room ultimately over, the Officer headed to the next.
This room was a bit smaller than its predecessor, but contained various bookshelves containing texts. His interest piqued, the officer stepped over to said shelves. However, upon further glance, these books all pertained to specific fields of study, such as Arcana research, unique Severants, and Thaumite biology. These were beneficial books, and as such, would not waste time.
"Frau! Do we have a guest in the house!?"
An elderly voice called out from behind the Officer. Turning his head to the source of the noise, he came across an old woman, repeatedly rocking back and forth in an old chair that seemed to reflect her age. Despite the presence of a heavily armored masked man in her room, the woman seemed to ignore him, perhaps due to her age. Shaking his head at being startled from such a person, the officer continued examining the books.
The realization that the girl was telling the truth settled in his mind as his eyes craned from side to side. One fact had become increasingly true. Further investigation was unnecessary.
Standing straight, the man turned around, the view shifting to the small Schnitter, staring back at him. She had remained holding the door open, as if expecting the officer to leave early the moment he entered.
The officer strutted back to the main entrance, facing directly towards the girl, who was no taller than his waist. He had come to the understanding that the girl was only nervous due to his appearance, and not as a result of concealing any illegal activity.
"The area seems to be clear. Thank you for allowing me to conduct a search."
The girl nodded, her eyes constantly averting from the bright red lights on the man's face.
'Of course, a child would be terrified of such an appearance.' The officer thought.
Bringing his hands up to his head, the man unlocked a small switch connecting the back of his helmet to the front. With a faint hiss, the front section of his helmet removed itself with a faint pop. The man removed the faceplate, revealing his face.
A young face belonging to a man no older than twenty-five. His hair was cut short in a buzz cut of sorts, perhaps to allow his helmet to cover his entire head with no difficulty. His eyes were sharp, something that would be expected of a Volarian Officer.
Kneeling onto one leg, the man placed a hand on top of the girl's head, stroking her hair. A bright smile seemingly made its way onto his face as he opened his mouth.
"Keep reading and learning, understand? Don't waste your time on useless things, so you can be a proud warrior of Volaria one day." He chuckled.
Finally able to focus on his face, Schnitter nodded, a small smile forming on her face as well. Her teeth, which seemed to be mostly composed of canines, faintly revealed themselves. For the first time, the girl had been acknowledged by someone. She liked this feeling, acknowledgment. Her work and what she was learning were being put into something, and someone praised her for it.
With a single breath, the man stood back up and outfitted himself with the faceplate again, the previously dead eyes lighting up into their familiar crimson. With a hiss, he resumed being a worker of Volaria.
"Once again, thank you for allowing me to enter your home." His voice returned to being low and distorted.
He then quickly assumed the Volarian salute.
"Volaria is Order, Order is humanity!"
The girl returned the salute.
"V-Volaria is humanity."
The man, chuckling at the blunder, stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
For the first time in a long time, the man had enjoyed an aspect of his job. He loved his country, and seeing the next generation ignited a spark within him. This spark continued until he had been mauled to death by a Mimic four days later.
With the presence of her sole sycophant gone, the girl stared at the door. Quiet ensued, focusing its presence on the surrounding room, desperate to solidify its existence for the few moments it would remain before perishing. As her eyes bore on the peeling stray wood, noises began to erupt from behind the bookshelf, growing increasingly louder. This was not the first time this event had happened, so her eyes did not avert from the door.
After a few more moments of the bookshelf being dragged across the floor, voices began to enter the room.
"—Man, that was close!"
"—Those damned drones! Just leave us alone, will ya?!"
"—-They expect us to work all the time!"
"—Let us party, get off!"
Footsteps soon followed, accompanying the voices. After enough time passed, the footsteps scattered across the whole room. Some voices morphed into laughter.
The girl's eyes never left the door.
The popping of various drinks accompanied the laughing. The laughing intensified.
"—H-Hey! N-Not here!"
"—-Come on, I can't hold it any longer! No one's going to care!"
"—Woah, Johann and Emma are getting it on."
"—-We should join in!"
"—Man, it's always the good-looking guys that get to do it."
"—-Yeah, let's go over there."
Sensual moaning accompanied the laughter.
Footsteps, moaning, drinks.
Always the same, every day.
The girl stared at the door.
'Come back. Please come back. I want to do something with my life. I don't want to be here.'
"—Tch! These damned books! Shit fell on my foot!"
"—-Huh, why'd you stop…? Oh, just knock it over, will you? No one lives here anyway."
The girl's eyes slightly faltered.
'I won't look away. I won't look away.'
"—-Why doesn't Frau join the party?"
"—She's really cute, but she prefers being in a corner reading or some crap."
"—-Is she trying to make us seem lazy!? I hate the moral high ground types that just make you feel bad for trying to let loose!!
"—--Well, she is just a chil–never mind."
It's a room of rats. Of vermin. A cage of freedom and desire. It doesn't matter who you are, once inside, you are no different from anyone else.
Footsteps, this time, getting closer to the girl.
The girl closed her eyes.
"—-You deserve to be punished! I'll make you see our perspective! You think you're better than us?! Damned siren!"
Footsteps, getting louder.
"—-Ara, Just let loose for once, Schnitter."
'Please come back. Please…'
Two large hands wrap themselves around the girl.
And they cover her eyes.
____________________________________________________________________________
It had been four months since the Officer had entered the apartment. Schnitter could not leave the home, as the fact that she, being young and attractive, was constantly taken advantage of in order to convince other officers from further investigating the home for any acts of Civic Idleness. This same routine would repeat at least three other times, and somehow, every time, the investigation would be called off. Everyone would leave home, come back the next day, carry this on for a week until someone was called, and when questioned, Schnitter would 'save' them.
Any normal individual would surmise that something suspicious was happening here. Schnitter suspected that some high-ranking official within Volaria was participating in these house parties, and as a result, halted any further investigation efforts for the premises, utilizing their authority. At this point, she could not remember who had initially started this entire debacle, whether it had been her 'grandmother' or her 'parents'.
All she knew were the grey, dreary walls, paint slowly peeling off their forms. All she knew was the dirty floor constantly littered with alcohol and other filth. All of which was to be cleaned at a quick pace when a search was to ensue—all by her. This was all she knew.
The girl was allowed to drink, but found no enjoyment in the drunken stupor that those around her seemed to enjoy. She was allowed to pursue any handsome man of her choosing, but never did, as the thought of being a mere toy to pleasure a man for a single night disgusted her. Sadly, she could not choose when backed against a corner.
Schnitter was allowed to socialize, but found that her surrounding 'captors' were all useless pests that could only hold conversations where the subject was how long they could 'go on', and how much they could drink. Their conversational bouts with each other were rooted in hedonism and tarrying. They could only speak on which other party-goer they found alluring, and what aspects of that person they found attractive, often choosing to go into extreme detail.
As for her bookshelf, only two books remained, some of their pages torn out by others to clean any leftover 'substances'. Schnitter would occasionally hunch in a corner and re-read most of them, to the point that she had memorized each and every single word. Just three months ago, she possessed an entire shelf's worth—but now, she could only reread the same thing, again and again.
A hole had existed in the girl's heart. She desired something, anything to fill that hole, yet no matter where she turned, only wastefulness gazed back. The girl was in a lush, gold prison, yet despite its appearance, it was but a prison.
The thought of school often found its way into the girl's mind.
To her, it seemed more of a fantastical land, a place where knowledge was constantly in the air. A place where those her age would utilize what they learned, applying it to their everyday life. It probably felt amazing. To finally use what you had poured so much effort into.
Yet for Schnitter, she was useless. She was no different than those she was constantly surrounded by. Despite her way of thinking differing, she herself could do nothing. Whenever someone left the home, crushing fear of repercussions constantly tormented her every time she thought of running out that door.
Today, she was curled up against the wall, her eyes on that door.
This time, there were four strips of peeling paint. That was nice to know. How did paint work, exactly? What even was paint? Could paint be edible?
It is human nature to wonder. To contemplate one's existence, to question the world around them. That is inherently human. Human expeditions, scientific breakthroughs, and achievements were all fueled collectively by a single question: why? The ones that had reached these milestones all held this question, and allowed it to guide their movements and such.
This question was especially important to children. When developmental years are churning, this question is constantly asked. It is used as a metric to measure the world around them, and to evaluate cause-and-effect. When a child is seldom given answers to their questions, it leads to a distrust of the adults around them. This was one of the leading factors of Schnitter's detachment from others.
'Is knowing stuff a bad thing?'
'Why does no one tell me?'
'No, it can't be bad. It feels good.'
'But what the adults do feels good, too.'
'But it feels bad after…'
'Is there 'bad' good, and 'good' good?'
The girl constantly subjected herself to this chain of questions within her mind. The questions would often intensify depending on the strain of time she contemplated them. The longer she thought about it, the more she could not understand whether productivity or enjoyment was better.
As a result of these deep contemplations, the girl would develop a habit of constantly chattering her teeth. Perhaps it was some botched form of entertainment for her or simply her mind slipping. Whichever it was, the habit would often catch the attention of the adults. The adults usually would be drunk, and the girl's fate was completely reliant on them.
The girl's head craned downward, her teeth chattering.
The thought of paint's origins spread throughout her mind like a wild vine.
A thud suddenly erupts directly in front of Schnitter, causing her to look towards the source. Such noises were fairly common in this environment, but one of this volatility never happened, which contributed to the girl actually gazing in the direction.
Two men. One who seemed to be in his early twenties and a fatter one, who seemed to be in his late forties, was evident from the bald spot on his head. Since Schnitter could see the said bald spot, his back was facing her.
Attempting to get a better look at the situation, Schnitter's eyes caught two hands clutching the collar of the younger man. He had also been pinned against the door, seemingly caught up in a physical altercation with the older man.
"You bastard! She's off limits! How dare you lay your disgusting hands on such a pure maiden!!"
The younger man's hand suddenly seizes the older man's left arm, compressing the fabric around it.
"Oi, fatass. Who the fuck do you think you are, a hero? You're so fucking creepy, it disgusts me. Forcing your feelings on a girl half your age..."
A smile forms on his face.
"No hero would be in a place like this either, and that goes for her, too. She's just a whore, so don't get all pissy when I go and do her."
Schnitter did not know these two's names, but was familiar with the older man. He had a reputation for aiming towards younger women, a predator of sorts. His unpleasant face also played into his unforgettable appearance. He had also forged some kind of twisted chivalry, believing himself to be a 'savior' for the women who went here. As if they desired saving in the first place.
He had approached Schnitter once, but had never done anything to the girl, as during that moment, he was submerged in drunkenness.
The older man's face morphed into a disgusting amalgamation, reflecting his nature as he cried.
"You! I'll kill you! It's always the Playboy types that corrupt women!"
A sudden punch from the fat man lands, striking the younger man square on the cheek, causing him to fall back on the door, causing it to swing open. The two collapsed to the ground, a tense squabble quickly ensuing as watchers began to cheer on the conflict.
A fight had broken out amongst the rats.
Due to the older man's weight, he had effectively pinned down his opponent on the ground, allowing for a vast barrage of strikes. However, despite the sheer effort displayed by the assailant, the 'victim' seemed to be mostly unaffected, his expression only changing slightly.
The door was now open.
The girl's eyes were glued to the door. No, the world.
"—Yeah, get 'em!"
"—Beat his ass!"
Chaos ensued for the next minute or so, until loud footsteps belonging to a collective of people rang out across the hallway. Each step could be heard, contributing to the orchestra of boots. Said 'boots' were running at full force—their desperate attempts to reach the source of chaos palpable.
"Civilians, detach from such activities immediately, or cleansing will commence!"
A sudden voice extravasated, its tone deep and garbled. This belonged to a member of the Volarian police force, evident by the faceplate-like mask outfitted on their face.
About twelve or so units surrounded the men from all sides, their firearms or weapons pointed at the two men.
The previously hyped voices that urged the conflict to go on further had now died down, a result of the authoritative presence. It was clear fear had quickly killed the emotion within the room and usurped its position.
Despite the clear warning, the older man continued his assault, as if beating his opponent was more important than his own life. Schnitter could not understand at the moment, but the man had been under the influence of a potent drug that altered his brain beyond recognition.
"Final warning! Separate immediately!"
Only violence in response.
Then, a single shot erupted.
The side of the older man exploded into a bloody pulp of gore. Brain matter splattered against the pavement, blood shortly following after. Since the shot was fired at the man while he had been yelling, he sputtered for a moment, whatever was left of his mind incapable of processing the pain. His lips uselessly fluttered before blood ran down the rest of his body.
Finally, the corpse crumpled to the ground backward in such a way that his knees were still bent. A disgusting position to perish in.
The man on the bottom, not expecting such an act, let out a yell of shock and confusion, earning a blade to the skull, which swiftly ended his life.
Of course, Schnitter found herself shocked by such a violent resolution, but another thought suddenly found itself in her brain.
These two died as they lived. They had lived as Varmints and died as such. They contributed nothing to the world and were taken out by those who did. Such a death was something that Schnitter began to fear. She feared such a meaningless end, which had perhaps been the entire reason behind her desire for knowledge.
It was quite a poetic scene—exclusive to the girl.
An armored, proud warrior with a sense of pride in his actions, standing over an alcohol covered, old man wearing dirty clothes.
While this epiphany surged through the girl, those around her began to quickly plan something equally as stupid as their predecessors had just done.
"—Shit! I can't go back again! And this time for CI! I'll be finished!"
"—I can't be arrested! I've got kids at home!"
"—I won't go down without a fight!"
"—There's fifty of us, and twelve of them! We got this!"
Any sane individual would quickly come to the resolution that rushing officers was a decision that would most certainly result in a quick death. One who was unarmed would especially reconsider such a drastic decision. These units were equipped with appropriate weaponry that would best a measly knife in mere moments.
Yet, these individuals were under the influence of both alcohol and a mysterious drug that fried their minds, evident by the crazed expressions on their faces.
The small embers quickly exploded into a raging inferno as the first of the fools charged into the cacophony of officers. The officers responded with a barrage of fire from their own end, tearing into the 'zombies'.
Blood splattered along the walls, the ceiling, and the ground. Viscera had also mended with the collapsing corpses, accentuating the carnage. Men and women alike charged like rats into the maw of a cat. Some would only break into a sprint for only a few seconds, only for their bodies to quickly crumple to the ground with little more than a quick gasp.
Throughout this violence, the girl glanced at the door, now covered in red paint.
Her eyes then shifted to the might of the Volarian Empire, carrying out their sword duties. The men and women who exterminated Varmints that contributed nothing to the empire. This was not a fight, this was not a confrontation, this was cleansing. This was janitorial work.
The final rounds sank into the cascading blood, the smell of iron pungent. The only one that remained was Frau Schnitter, born anew in death. She was to understand her own purpose in life. To eliminate enjoyment, and to promote productivity.
The boots belonging to the soldiers began moving towards the girl, as some had caught a glance of the child sitting amongst the corpses. A smile had formed on her face, as the girl lifted a small finger, pointing towards the room on the left.
Whimpering belonging to an old woman remained as the sole 'existence' in that room.
To the woman's utter dismay, she held a weapon in her hand.
"—No! Please!'
That day, the Rat's Nest—a hidden Civil Idleness club within the fourth district of Florencia—was discovered and quickly cleansed out due to aggressive nature of the inhabitants. Amongst the corpses, many high ranking officials were discovered, bringing into heavy discussion about corruption within the government. Those officials that were not present that had links with the club were tracked down, and arrested.
A drug had also been discovered within the Rat's Nest, known as Devil's Scent. Usage of the drug would heavily alter the brain, resulting in otherwise rational blocks to the brain being omitted from the thought process.
A lone girl by the name Frau Schnitter, was the sole survivor of the cleansing, and was born anew as a Death Pathogen, going on to benefit the Empire greatly.
A weapon took its aim at the old woman.
____________________________________________________________________________
The explosion from the barrel of the pistol momentarily lit up the alleyway, briefly casting away the lingering shadows. Another, and another followed shortly.
However, none of the bullets had ever met their target.
"You're quicker than you let on, varmint! I'd expect nothing less from a glorified assassin!" Schnitter yelled, a gleeful smirk present on her face, clearly enjoying playing target with her opponent. Said opponent darted along the wall, getting closer with every shot. Schnitter was aware of this fact, and dug her back foot into the floor below, readying for an incoming attack. The assailant was about five steps away.
'She's fast, faster than my bullets. Hmm, let's see if it's some kind of precognition ability that's letting her dodge. I've got four bullets left in the chamber, so I should be fine.' The commander contemplated.
Gliding her firing arm through the air, the woman fired a round directly in front of Asakawa's apparent trajectory. A small doubt had manifested in Schnitter's mind—the idea that this varmint was in fact, not fast, and was merely capable of telling the future through some kind of Precognition Function.
"Clang!"
Asakawa had cleaved through the bullet, momentarily caught by surprise at the sudden trajectory change of the projectile. The bullet colliding with her katana ignited in a flash of yellow dust, before quickly disappearing to the ground. However, despite such an event occurring, Asakawa never halted in her tracks.
Four feet away.
'This woman, she is refraining from any sort of movement when she fires at me. Despite her attempts to stop me being repeatedly proven futile, she remains in place, firing. Is she a Gazer?' Asakawa thought.
Three feet.
'I mustn't attack as soon as I reach the appropriate distance. If the possibility that she is a Gazer exists, then I would be at a major disadvantage, as she is most likely waiting for me to get closer to utilize some kind of Function.'
'I will…'
'I will…"
Two feet.
'Catch her off guard!!'
'Catch this Varmint off guard!!'
The following events occurred within the span of two halves in a second.
Asakawa had initially given the impression that she was prepared to slice horizontally at Schnitter, aiming at her abdomen. She had leaped towards her in such a way that a trajectory change was impossible. During the dash, her back leg soared behind her, giving the impression of an arrow of sorts.
Blood from her thumb was drawn as her index finger dug inside.
"Gravitas-1, Lift."
Asakawa's body soared above Schnitter, heading directly upwards towards an abandoned home. Quickly turning around to observe her opponent midair, Asakawa prepared to brandish her katana.
'Because I had feinted my entire body, she must have used her function by accident. Now is my chance to see for myself.'
The black haired girl's eyes widened.
With her trademark smile, directly underneath Asakawa, Schnitter aimed the pistol directly upwards, not at Asakawa. Without a moment to waste, her finger pressed on the trigger, resulting in the weapon being fired.
Something that bent reality occurred.
"H̷̝̙̲̊͘͜͝I̸̥̭̳̟͂̓͋̕̕͝T̷̤̖̑̎̉̈́͌̇̽̈́."
Shock suddenly entered Asakawa's brain as she gazed down at her foot.
"?!"
Crimson red liquid trailed down her leg, dripping onto the ground below.
By now, the Gravitas spell was wearing off, forcing Asakawa to land on a nearby rooftop. Using her uninjured leg, she quickly made contact with the roof tiles, and firmly gazed at her opponent. Asakawa's eyes opened, revealing the pattern to her. Perhaps she would be able to see her Hollow points and formulate an offense.
Asakawa saw the pattern as a collection of darkness. Hollow points were often white circles that shone brightly.
Unfortunately, Schnitters's hollow points were practically nonexistent. This was because her emotional state was controlled. When one's emotional state spirals, whether madness or sadness, their Hollow points shine more and more. Asakawa stepped out of her gaze and sighed.
Schnitter lazily began turned around, dangling the pistol in her hand.
'How did she? She was not aiming at me whatsoever, so how exactly did she manage to hit my leg?' Asakawa thought.
Thankfully, the bullet had not hit any arteries or major body parts. While it still was painful, it had not done any lasting damage. For now, she would have to avoid relying on her left leg.
'It's clear, however. She is attempting to get me to reveal my function in using hers. Best case scenario, I dispatch her without revealing my Kamigakari no Kaze.'
Kamigakari no Kaze.
Asakawa Meiko's Thaumite Function. It was an ability that utilized kinetic energy in 'dud' strikes, and stored it into a 'true' strike. One might mistake it for a Severant Function at first, but it was far from the truth. If Asakawa were to blindly strike the air for a few moments, depending on its size and weight, the kinetic energy would be stored. Then, when her middle finger and thumb pressed against each other, the next strike would be converted into a 'true', and would release all the stored energy into a single devastating attack.
Asakawa could use what she liked for such an ability, but preferred to use a large blade due to its weight and size, which contributed to the energy being stored.
Despite the existence of her Function seemingly powerful, as a Thaumite, the Equivalence Law she suffered from was equally taxing. With the activation of her Function, blood flowing to Asakawa's brain would form into a small blood clot that would last about two hours. If she were to activate it again, the clot would grow larger and so on.
Because of this, Asakawa relied on utilizing spells more often, as did all Thaumites. This was the price a Thaumite would pay for their often powerful functions—the Equivalence law was stricter on them than any other Gazer. Thaumites had higher arcana reserves, but would still run out, however. Still, the system would soon be delved into further, so remembering such terms was not exactly necessary at the moment.
What mattered could be summarized into this: Asakawa could not reveal her ability for two reasons. One, if used, a blood clot would form, and her fighting ability would be at risk. Two, if used, her opponent would figure out exactly what had been occurring and would deduce a way to counter such an ability.
Asakawa had to rely on her vast knowledge of stage 2 spells as a Thaumite. While creating distance between her and her opponent seemed ludicrous because of the small pistol the woman held, Asakawa surmised that due to her injured leg, and not understanding her opponents' ability, she would have to enact such an action.
While she believed she held the upper hand in close combat, she would have to back down for the sake of observing her opponent's Function. Was she a Thaumite, Severant User, or perhaps maybe even a Vocator?
Gazing up at her opponent, Schnitter fully turned her body around, the barrel of her pistol still emanating tufts of smoke. The smell of gunpowder filled the air around her as she let out another smile. Perhaps to further taunt her enemy.
"You seem stressed out, Varmint! This is what it is like! Being pit against someone who fights for Order and Justice!"
She extends her arms.
"Those like you, mere mercenaries, would never understand! You choose to use your abilities for the most expensive bidder, and would choose to forsake others for money! My heart is resolute, and I would never fight for such worldly desires!"
Asakawa Meiko placed her hand on her knee, pushing herself just within view of Schnitter.
"You seem to be smiling a lot for someone who claims their reasoning is void of any personal enjoyment."
"Tch. You would never understand."
With swift hands, Schnitter quickly released the mag, allowing it to fall. While it fell, Her left hand smoothly reached into her pocket, revealing fresh ammo as she pulled back the slide. With a solid click, the mag slid into its slot.
This motion only spanned about 1.5 seconds.
Schnitter once again, began rhythmically firing at Asakawa, who retaliated by cracking her index finger.
"Gaiadros-13, Enclose."
She swung her free arm in a half arc around her body. Various tiles from the roof plucked themselves out of their positions, forming a shield from the gunfire. Bullets ricocheted off their surface, resulting in sparks exploding and bouncing off the ground. Some tiles were knocked out the air, falling below.
'Earlier, when she hit me, she had chanted something that sounded alike to the word 'Hit'.'
'She might have some ability pertaining to her firearm. A 'sure-hit' Function of sorts. Disarming her would perhaps be the wise thing to do.'
"D̴̢̖͔̹̩̰͍̙̻̦̎́̊i̴̧̱̣̥͎̦͇͓̓͆͊v̵̢̺͕̭̗̫͕̭͚̺̳͍̀͌̍̃̂́̃̕͜͝͝ͅͅe̷̬͕̱̼̬̠̬͙͓̘͙̻̖͋̈́͜! Kh..!" Schnitter yelled.
Suddenly, the tiles that had been knocked off by the bullets quickly changed their trajectory under Asakawa's feet, into the roof. With intense speed, they hurled downward and collided with the rest of the structure, causing a large portion to collapse inwards. Smoke exploded around the area, masking all those within for a moment.
Once cleared, Schnitter squinted her eyes, searching for her opponent. To her luck, said opponent was nowhere to be seen.
'She fell in. The ambush was a success.'
In this particular home, there were only about two stories. All the windows were faced towards Schnitter, making it that if Asakawa was to attempt and escape, she would fall into her clutches. She had effectively trapped her.
Vast amounts of footsteps pertaining to footsteps began to collect around Schnitters location.
"Commander! We've heard the noise! How can we assist?!" A Scherer soldat yelled.
Without losing her gaze at the building, Schnitter asked, "Were the grunt Varmints dealt with?"
"Yes, Ma'am! Those that remained are scattering across the rest of Varos, and are being snuffed out by other forces as we speak! We came across you because of—"
"Scherer, on me! Assume Anti-Thaumite positions!" The woman shouted, raising a hand.
Quickly, the Scherer around her formed a position akin to a square of sorts. Those with lighter Severants would form the front, while the larger Severants were in the rear. About four Scherer consisted of the formation.
"Thaumites! Hold your positions! If you see someone break out of any windows, fire immediately! The rest of the Jäger, follow the same command! "
"Yes, Ma'am!!"
"Go, go, go!"
With those commands issued, the group quickly surged towards the front door, Schnitter in the middle, adjusting her hat.
"Breaching!" A Scherer Soldat yelled, brandishing a large hammer as he moved from his rear position to the front. With a twist of his hips as he swung his hammer, the door's wooden foundation collapsed inwards, splinters and fragments alike scattering apart. The door still remained on its hinges, hanging down, a fragment of its former self.
With that, the heavy Scherer returned to his original position.
The two light Scherer, both wielding daggers, dashed inwards, quickly taking control of sectors in the room, or 'dominant angles'. When breaching a room as a Scherer, one did not have access to a firearm, so speed was the main factor in securing a room. Vision would have to be formed in crisscrosses, while speed had to remain constant. If an enemy was spotted, whichever unit's sector they were closer to, would dispatch of them first, followed by the second-closest unit.
About two seconds after the Light Scherer bolted inside, Schnitter followed after, her firearm raised. The heavy Scherer followed as well, both of them dragging their hammers behind their forms.
'I know I hit her leg, so she is most likely injured. Regardless however, doing a full push with backup is still necessary. She still hasn't revealed her function, so I'm still at a slight disadvantage. I was blindly firing at her without activating Sovereign, so she could reveal something.'
"I think we're clear!"
"No, there are stairs, check them!"
All personnel in the room turned their heads towards said stairs. All the way at the far right of the room, laid the subject. Still holding position, the Light Scherer kept their daggers close as they slowly made their way towards the stairs, with the Heavy Scherer following close. This time however, Schnitter had exempted from the centerpiece, instead lingering in the back.
Footsteps creaked under the floorboards as all the Soldat pushed towards the stairs. The first flight was directly in front and visible to all, the issue was the second flight of stairs, which was at a 180 degree bend.
"There's blood!" A soldat called out, pointing out the crimson viscous liquid trailing down the steps. It wasn't a substantial amount, which was the leading cause of why it hadn't been detected earlier. Still, it was an alarming sight. Whether a good alarm, or bad alarm, one could not be sure.
"Move cautiously!"
The flight of stairs was a tight fit, so as a result, each soldat would have to move in a single line. The first of them entered the flight, his boots colliding with the blood, resulting in slight splashes emanating from the point of contact.
As the first soldat moved, he kept his eyes glued to the railing along the stairs. Tension ground against his nerves. If he ran into an enemy, execution was to be swift, slight hesitation meant death—
Wait.
Something caught his eye.
At the top of the second flight of stairs—-sat a black haired girl—-clutching a large sheathed katana. Blood was dripping off her left leg, which was presumably a cause of the crimson splattered on the steps. Sweat collected in drops around her face, and her teeth were clenched. Strands of her black hair clung to her face as well, further accentuating the fact that she had been wounded.
"—D–Don't move!!" The soldat yelled, pointing his dagger at the woman.
This particular Scherer's Severant allowed him to fire a beam of lightning out of its tip at the expense of his vision for a moment.
If she even moved a muscle, he would unleash electrical fury on her, it's severity depending on her strength. However, to his utter dismay, she did not seem to stop moving despite his commands. The soldat's confusion at his hesitation latched around his brain like tendrils.
He had trained for years, the top of his class. He was one of the few Scherer within the Volarian empire. So why?! Why did he feel this way?! Why did terror inject itself into his nerves, his blood stream!? He was an elite soldier! Why was hesitation even present right now?!
The reflection of the girl in the man's eyes behind his mask grew larger and larger, warping into an incomprehensible being. Turning a dial on the side of his helmet, the Scherer activated his gaze, opting to see what was the cause of his body refusing to listen.
The moment his vision shifted, he understood.
This Scherer viewed the pattern as a culmination of strings. That was how he perceived it. Hollow points to him formed in torn strings, disconnected from the rest. When he gazed, everything, and only everything would be string.
Yet in front of him, he saw nothing.
He could not move, precisely because of nothing.
He was terrified of nothing.
Hollow Entropy grasped his form as he found himself unable to move.
"Hey! S62, what's going on!? Did you find her!?" His fellow light Scherer yelled out, confused. The rest of the units had no way of seeing what was in front of their compatriots due to the tight nature of the stairs, so callouts were necessary. Right now, all behind the first one were stuck in the dark, unable to understand what had occurred to their primary.
While the soldats struggled like flies in a trap, Asakawa stood up slowly, and gripped her blade's handle. With utmost precision, she began unsheathing her blade, her arms outstretched.
"Damn it!! Konrad! Push past him! We need to help him out!!" A heavy Scherer called out, a seeming friend of his. It was clear the damage done to his friend was getting to him, as he was growing desperate.
"Stay still! We need to stay where we are!"
The other two Scherer were on standby, torn whether to retreat from their position or to push forward. Their commander was in charge of this tense situation that had just arisen. But right now, Schnitter was at the bottom, incapable of viewing what was occurring.
"No! You need to—"
"Kamikagari No Kaze."
With the uttering of those words, all units present on the stairs were instantly, yes, instantly, bisected in half.
Crimson exploded from the flight of stairs, splattering against the wall as lungs, guts, and viscera alike accompanied the crimson. It was as if a tidal wave of blood had crashed against the wall, coating it in red paint. What remained of their corpses tumbled down the steps, nearly all falling to Schnitters feet. Brain matter slowly spilled of some corpses, the pink aiding the gore.
The commander's eyes widened, shocked at the sudden extermination of all her men.
'She got all of them in a tight space, then killed them all in a single blow?! This had got to be her Severant Function!'
While Schnitter attempted to interpret this gruesome resolution, the creaking of steps erupted from the flight of stairs. A shadow cast itself along the walls, moving down slowly. Each step felt louder than the last.
And out came Asakawa Meiko, her jetblack blade dripping blood off it's edge.
Schnitter leaped backwards into the room, surprised.
Prior to the breaching of the home, Asakawa had swung her blade about one hundred fifty times, storing all the kinetic energy inside. Once stored, she had sat at the top of the stairs, which happened to be a tight fit, awaiting her victims.
Once they had all lined up for her, she swung, and released her Function.
"You misunderstood one thing about me."
Her arm lazily dragged itself upwards, her katana aiming towards Schnitter.
"I do not fight for worldly reasons. I do not fight for pleasure or monetary gain. I fight because there is nothing inside me. I am void, I am hollow. Whether I gain something or not is irrelevant to me."
"The path of being a member of Sable Veil happened to be the first thing I stumbled upon. Had that not happened, I would have killed everything around me."
Schnitter's eyes moved to her opponents leg, which was still spurting out blood.
'Is she seriously pushing through losing that much blood?! She'll collapse any moment!'
"Khgh!! Don't mouth off as if you've won, varmint!"
Flinging her arm upwards, Schnitter unloaded a barrage of bullets towards Asakawa, all of which had connected, but had been deflected by the girl's blade. Taking note of this, after four bullets, Schnitter quickly flung her arm backwards, firing behind her.
"H̸̗̟̿͜i̷̹̮͇͝t̷̺̟͠"
The speed had thrown off Asakawa, who was becoming suited to the rhythm Schnitter had been firing in. Deflecting was not an option, so the girl had been forced to dodge the bullet.
'She clenched her teeth when she uttered that command, as if in pain. I need to hurry up and figure out what her function is, I'm rapidly losing blood. So far, I know it has something to do with her words. She is clearly curving bullets to strike me when I least expect it. What I need to find out is her limitations and use them as a counter.'
Dashing towards Schnitter, Asakawa readied her weapon for another horizontal slice. Taking note of this, the Blitz commander flipped backwards, landing on top of a run-down counter.
The blade missed its target, instead slicing across the wood counter, nearly cutting it in half.
Miss.
Taking advantage of her opponent's blunder, Schnitter fired off a bullet, to which Asakawa quickly jerked her head to the opposite side. Using the momentum from her previous strike, the mercenary pulled back her arm, and thrusted it upwards, attempting to pierce her opponent's abdomen.
Schnitter hastily twisted her hips to the side, barely dodging the strike. Heat from the air that had been struck by the blade could be vaguely felt.
Miss.
Twisting her wrist, Asakawa switched from a thrust, to a horizontal slash in Schnitters direction. Unfortunately, Schnitter had already dropped from the counter, and was now on Asakawa's right, the barrel of her gun directly aimed at her opponents' skull.
Biting her tongue, Asakawa quickly chanted, "Gravitas-1, Lift."
The commanders arm lifted upwards slightly for a moment, the bullet missing its mark, and instead getting fired towards the ceiling, resulting in shrapnel and splinters dropping below.
Asakawa's reserves were running low, which contributed to the spell's lessened effects. Her injuries also played a particularly large role in its downsides.
Gritting her teeth, Asakawa spun around, delivering a back kick to Schnitter. However, this attack was not intended for damage purposes, rather for something else, which quickly became evident when it connected. The momentum from the kick towards Schnitter's hand, paired with the weak gravitas spell, resulted in the woman's firearm flying across the room.
A loud clank erupted as it collided with the ground.
"?!"
Bouncing on her heels backwards, Asakawa recovered to her initial stance, raising her katana.
Reflecting her opponent's movements, Schnitter bounced backwards, raising her fists, while still assuming a grappling stance.
'So she is a Thaumite.'
'She knows I'm a Thaumite now. Shit. I need to get my gun back.'
Due to Thaumite's Functions being latent within their bodies, most were well versed in martial arts. Judging by Schnitter's stance, she was clearly knowledgeable in close quarters combat, not to mention the constant dodges she had performed.
Right now, Asakawa had the advantage in a way. She held a weapon, while her opponent did not.
The two stood still, measuring the distance between them.
Then—
Asakawa dashed forwards into a crouch-strike, attempting to perform an upwards slice.
Schnitter retaliated by sidestepping to the right, then pulling back her left fist. A strike was bound to happen at any moment.
Miss.
Unable to avoid the strike, Asakawa clenched her teeth as the fist made contact with her lower left region. Just any higher, and the strike would have connected with her liver, which would have been disastrous.
The skin around the area of impact warped for a few moments, before rippling back to normal shape. Sensing her connected strike, Schnitter pulled back her second fist, ready to thrust it forward. This time, it was aimed towards Asakawa's face, which would hopefully result in the end of this altercation.
However, to her surprise, Asakawa pulled back her sword once again, thrusting towards Schnitter. Wind warped around the strike as sound quickly followed behind it.
Tired of constantly dodging strikes, Schnitter quickly caught the blade with her forearms, trapping it from any further movement. Now, her opponent had been disarmed as well. Victory was ensured, as the girl was clearly too injured, and her only form of victory being the long reaching katana was gone.
'I've got her Severant. If she tries to pull it backwards, I'll let it go and force the sword back with Sovereign, and kill her.'
Suddenly, something that should not have happened, happened. Something that Schnitter did not expect in the slightest would happen. It was a possibility that, even if one were observing the fight from outwards, would not expect.
Asakawa Meiko let go of the blade.
And like a fluttering sail in the wind, she rose upwards, her hair trailing behind like ribbons. Like a coil ready to extend, she detracted her fist backwards. Like a predator zeroing in its prey, her eyes clenched.
No, her eyes were devoid of any emotion whatsoever.
"Kamigakari No Kaze."
With that incantation, Asakawa Meiko unleashed all the energy she had been building up until now into her fist.
It warped through space, surging at twice the speed of any strike until now. Not even the thought of dodging it would be possible before it struck.
"Hgh!? M̵͕͉̈̏i̶̞̊̔̕s̸̪̰̍̉̕ș̴̲̍̄!!"
The fist, despite clearly going to make contact with the commander's face, missed its target, and instead made contact with the floor. The ground absolutely exploded into a tattered mess of shrapnel and smoke. Cracks ran along from the point of impact all the way towards the wall, seriously threatening the already dangerous structure of the abandoned home. Creaks rang out, and wood began scraping against each other.
'She missed multiple times, and it resulted in this! She didn't need her weapon! She's a Thaumite! Is her ability—"
"I've figured you out." Asakawa muttered as she removed her hand from the hole she had created.
Jaunting over to her fallen blade, she picked it up and pointed it towards Schnitter, who had fallen over, her hat to her side.
Then, raising it to her shoulder, Asakawa prepared to thrust, placing her free hand hovering over its blade. Her arm glided forward, guiding the blade to its designation.
"M̵͕͉̈̏i̶̞̊̔̕s̸̪̰̍̉̕ș̴̲̍̄!!"
The blade missed its target.
Yet, pain surged throughout Schnitter, as if struck.
Why?
Did it hit?
No.
Asakawa had stopped it midair.
A torrent of blood erupted from Schnitter's mouth, tainting her apparel. The smell of iron, which was already pungent, increased twice fold.
"—Gahh!!!"
'It didn't miss?! How did she–?! No, it did miss!!'
"Your Function. You can command things in motion to follow your orders, but only when they're in the realm of possibility. If it is 'impossible', it takes a strain on you."
She was correct.
Frau Schnitter's SOVEREIGN. It was a Thaumite Function that manifested itself in her voice, intensified by the fact she was a siren. Objects that fell within the realm of 'possibility' of physics could be commanded absolutely. However, objects that strayed too far from physics took a larger strain in her vocal cords.
For example, if one was to throw a ball upwards, and chant: 'Drop'. The command would not take a strain, as a ball falling downwards—albeit fast, was still within the realm of possibility. However, if one were to toss a ball forward, and chant: 'Backwards', it would take strain, as in physics, that is nearly impossible, or otherwise rare.
That is why Schnitter chose to use a pistol. As chanting 'hit' towards a bullet that was close was not out of the realm of possibility.
Asakawa had realized this ability's nature when she had utilized her own Function. When she activated Kamigakari no Kaze, the strike already had the appropriate force and speed for a guaranteed hit, so when it had been dodged and resulted in Schnitter's blood-fueled cough, it struck something for Asakawa.
Because of the clear violation of such a strike, Schnitter suffered a drawback.
'Damn it! She realized it already, so she stopped her blade halfway there and didn't attack! I forced it to miss even though it wasn't going to hit me, so I got punished!'
A blade was aimed at Schnitter's throat.
"Disengage your units outside. Tell your superiors that Varos is free of any corruption and go back to Volaria. There is nothing happening here."
"You—!"
"Schlk!"
A thin string of blood is drawn, dripping downwards.
"I am not asking. There is nothing here for you. Leave."
Asakawa stepped backward, allowing for Schnitter to stand up. The commander, seemingly angered, reaches for her cap, and dusts it off. She then places it on her head.
If Asakawa were to gaze, it would be guaranteed her opponent would have been full of Hollow Points. However, if she were to kill her, it would create more complications.
Finishing adjusting the cap on her head, Schnitter gazes at her opponent, now the one who had arisen from this fight as a victor. Her eyes were utterly devoid of any emotion whatsoever. She was not alive, nor dead. She simply 'was'. Her mouth was the only aspect of her body that moved, nothing else.
Schnitter could not understand.
This girl around her age, did not fight for any external reason. So why had she chosen to fight as a mercenary? Why had she decided to align herself with morally corrupt individuals that did not contribute anything to the world? Had this girl fought with Volaria, she would have contributed so much to order and peace.
Everyone in the world wanted desires, right? It was inherent within humans to seek out whatever benefited them, correct? And there were also those like Schnitter that sought a higher purpose, and worked hard, right?
So why?
Why did this girl exist out of that paradigm altogether? Why did she exist away from both order and indulgence?
Schnitter could not understand as she turned around, her back facing towards Asakawa. Her hand found itself on the shattered doorknob belonging to the door she had breached not too long ago. The house she had entered as combatant, was now one she was exiting as a loser.
"Just…"
"Just what are you?"
"I am not obliged to respond. Leave."
"..."
As soon as the white haired woman stepped out, Asakawa overheard soldats speaking to her.
"—Ma'am, what happened!? Are you alright?!"
"Yes. We've successfully snuffed out the hostile."
"—Excuse me Ma'am, but where are the Soldats you entered with? Are they—"
"I said I dispatched the hostile. Nothing else matters. I need medical attention."
"—-Understood! Medic!"
The voices fell out of ear, disappearing into the night.
Asakawa Meiko stood still.
She did not care if her brain felt as if being repeatedly stabbed by boiling hot iron.
She did not care if she could not feel her leg any longer.
She did not care if her outfit was crisp with blood.
She did not care if the urge to vomit was present.
She was hollow.
She did not care if she died.
She did not care if the villagers would never free themselves from Gorthro's clutches.
She did not care if her friends cried for her.
She was devoid of anything, and would exist at this moment as if nothing existed.
Asakawa Meiko collapsed onto the cold ground, her body bouncing slightly as it collided with floorboards, a resounding thud erupting.
Footsteps quickly were soon heard, louder and louder, trailing towards Asakawa's body. They continued until the point they could be heard even if moving slowly.
"Asakawa!!" A man's voice yelled out. It belonged to Kors, who had overheard the fighting, his worriedness reaching its boiling point. He could not hold himself any further, and desperately needed to check on his teammate.
Surprisingly, his skull head was no longer present, now spiked flowing black hair present. He also possessed an actual human face, with green eyes and other features befitting a human.
Crouching down, he lifted the girl, placing her on his back.
"You fought well. Let's go."